


Not the Revolutionary Kind

by trickpie (dinnafashnow)



Category: The Mighty Boosh RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-05
Updated: 2008-03-05
Packaged: 2018-02-27 10:39:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2689757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinnafashnow/pseuds/trickpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sun still hasn't come up after the NME awards but Julian's already found somewhere to put his award. Drunken hilarity ensues. This is a little bit sexy but mostly ridiculous, with a dash of fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not the Revolutionary Kind

**Author's Note:**

> Alternative lulz title "Not the Mantelpiece" was considered. I blame lleif for starting this. I blame a number of forum members for encouraging it. Cal took his one way and I took mine another, then dragged [](http://eggshellseas.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://eggshellseas.livejournal.com/)**eggshellseas** in with me, kicking and screaming, because she brings the sexytimes to the party like nobody else does.

  
“Stop the press, it’s the NME’s Best Dressed Male.”

“I think you’ll find it’s Best Dressed, Full Stop.”

“I still have no idea how – I mean, you’re a bloke, how did you—”

“I’m a fashion enigma, Julian. Don’t question me. Fucking let me in, already.”

Julian took a step back from where he’d blocked the entrance to the front door and Noel stumbled inside, out of the crisp pre-dawn air. His hair was sticking up in twelve different directions and his eyeliner was all smudged in the corner of one eye. Noel dropped his weather-beaten leather bag on the floor and stepped up to Julian’s side, wrapping his arms around his waist and tucking his face in against Julian’s neck with a warm breath ghosting out over Julian’s skin. Julian pushed the front door closed before lightly resting a hand against Noel’s shoulderblade.

“Where’s Julia?”

Noel’s face was still hidden. Julian wasn’t sure how he deciphered the mumbling; it was almost like he’d felt the words run through him, rather than heard them.

“She’s out.”

“Hmm.”

“Went back to her mother’s after the official business was over. Doesn’t like being away from the boys for long, said something about motherly instinct. Something about sleeping there. Also something about last year’s antics and me misbehaving and her expecting a repeat. Something about bringing the party home. Still a bit drunk, really, so she probably had it right. Except for the bringing it home bit, haven’t done that this time. Unless you’re the party. You smell like the party. You smell like fruity cocktails and bubbles, you tramp, you’ve probably been—”

The weight of Noel’s head left Julian’s shoulder and he was pushed back against the wall, a hand coming to rest against his cheek before Noel’s tongue was in his mouth, an effective silencing tool. The thing about alcohol was that he never realised how much it caused him to babble until it was too late and the words were tumbling out over each other, bits of Noel that had become bits of him over the years were pouring out, because Noel talked shit most of the time. Julian was usually good at keeping that part of himself hidden. That was the thing about alcohol, though.

“I didn’t want to sleep on the couch, anyway.”

“You might have to. I don’t know what time she’ll be home.”

“What’s wrong with two drunken chums having a kip together?”

“What’s wrong is when you forget to keep your pants on.”

“Don’t you mean put them _back_ on?”

And then Noel was grabbing at Julian’s hands and walking backwards, one foot after the other, careful not to trip. Julian took slower, steadier steps in following, stopping at the bottom of the stairs as Noel conquered one, two, three. He paused at three and brought their clasped hands up to Julian’s shoulders, pulling him in. Julian tugged his hands free from Noel’s and grabbed at his hips, now somewhere around shoulder height due to Noel’s position on the stairs. He closed his eyes, leaning further in to rest his forehead against Noel’s stomach.

“Why not your own bed, Fielding?”

“Give it up, I know you’re pleased as fucking punch that I’m here.”

“I’m sure Dee’s thrilled, too.”

“She and Mel left before me, I don’t know. Melvis’ll be in my side of the bed, that’s how the game goes, it’s like a race to get home. It’s mental. They’re mental. Girls are mental. Sleepovers. They’ll be talking, or sleeping, or fucking, I don’t know.”

Julian leaned back again and looked up at Noel with a raised eyebrow. “Fucking?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. Maybe. They’ve not invited me yet, so maybe not.”

“You children and your whorish ways.”

“Don’t act like you’re not involved.”

Noel smirked, ruffling his fingers through Julian’s hair before turning and stumbling up the rest of the stairs, disappearing at the top. Julian stayed a statue for a moment more. With a steadying breath, he followed Noel’s scattered footsteps and found him in the bedroom, sprawled out on his back, sideways across the bed. His feet flopped over the edge, red goblin boots kicking around lazily. In his hands he turned the NME statuette around, looking at it from all angles.

Julian leant against the doorframe and watched him for a while as he traced over it with his fingers, reading aloud the small amount of text and curving his fingers over the grooves in the bronze.

“I still can’t believe you lost yours. You’ve got it hidden somewhere, don’t you.”

Noel glanced up at Julian with a barking laugh. “I don’t! I swear, I honestly don’t. I thought Dee was hiding it on me for a while.”

“And you’re sure that she’s not?”

“Yeah, I tried to pull her up about it a couple of months ago. She smacked me in the ribs.”

“She’s got a powerful smack.”

“She’s not kidding around when she smacks. She means business.”

Julian grinned and moved over to sit on the edge of the bed, noting Noel’s lips pursing tightly for a moment before he grinned in reply. Despite Julian’s approach, Noel stayed sprawled out on the bed. Julian shuffled around, ending up cross-legged at the end of the bed, facing the headboard with Noel stretched out in front of him. He briefly entertained the idea of playing him like a keyboard, following through as far as resting his hands lightly side by side on Noel’s stomach. Noel was still preoccupied with the statuette.

“That’s _mine_ , you know.”

“I’ve changed my mind. I want it. Can’t I have it instead?”

“What? You got last year’s! And you got an extra bloody two this year. Not a chance, that’s mine. Give it me, I’ve lost all trust in you.”

Julian’s weak effort at snatching the statuette back was foiled as Noel wrapped his arms around it tightly, lips hooking up in a snarl. He bit the air near Julian’s fingers loudly. Julian snatched his hand back, choosing instead to scowl at the statuette, willing it back to him.

“I didn’t get an extra two, anyway. I got shit all. I got a piece of paper and a Chinese whisper.”

“What? Oh, yeah, the business card.”

“It didn’t even get me free drinks. I tried it on every member of the bar staff. Nothing.”

Julian shifted up onto his knees, towering over Noel. Noel eyed him warily, arms tightening around the statuette. Julian surveyed the situation before leaning down to tickle his fingers against Noel’s ribs, slipping up and down his sides as Noel squealed and writhed. The moment he forgot about the statuette and flung his arms out to attempt to fight Julian off was the moment that Julian let off, grabbing the statuette and falling back onto his arse with a triumphant yet embarrassingly high-pitched giggle.

Noel slunk up into a sitting position, mirroring Julian with crossed legs. He shuffled in until their knees touched and crawled his fingers up Julian’s thighs, looking at him with what Julian could only guess was an attempt at being beguiling.

“You can stop that right now, because you’re not having it.”

“But I want it.”

“I – no! This is – I’ve already cleared a spot on the mantelpiece for it! It’s going to look very nice there!”

“But I want it, Ju.”

“You – no!” Julian couldn’t stop his giggles. He turned the statuette over in his hands, bringing it to rest in his lap, flipping the bronze bird in Noel’s direction. “Get your… bum chums at the NME to fetch you up a couple for your other nonce awards.”

Noel tried his best to look scandalised. “They’re not nonce awards, they’re very dignified. I’m the – fucking… the what? The sexiest male of the year. Best fucking dressed. That’s… that’s weighty. That’s important, to the world, that somebody be those things.”

“How the hell do they judge something like that? Sexiest Male? Best Dressed?”

“I’ve absolutely no idea.”

“It just – these categories are quite… they’re very confusing.”

“I don’t find that. I dunno, it’s a readership thing. The readers all vote for their favourites, Julian.”

“And the NME’s been bumming us solid for the last few months.”

“Bumming _me_ , I think you’ll find.”

“Hmm.”

Julian focused on the statuette in his hands. He could feel Noel shifting awkwardly in his spot. They didn’t like to talk about these things, these ‘celebrity’ things. In the last twelve months, fame had driven an awkward and uncomfortable wedge between them. Noel bathed in it while Julian didn’t know what to think of it. The longer he hung back and thought about it, the more Noel was thrust forward, alone.

Still contemplating the phrase ‘thrust forward’, Julian’s eyebrows raised as Noel leaned down over his lap. He found himself staring at the back of Noel’s head as the base of the statuette was pushed down, the wood pressing against his crossed legs. He kept one hand on the statuette, bringing his other hand up to thread his fingers through the back of Noel’s hair, still not used to the shorter cut, the thinned-out strands where there used to be a messy, back-combed explosion.

With Noel’s face hidden, it was almost like having a stranger there, something thrilling and terrifying at the same time. Julian awaited Noel’s next move with bated breath, not entirely sure what to expect.

Noel’s fingers scrabbled over his thighs and then touched his own where they were still curled around the statuette.

“What do you need it for anyway?” A bratty question asked so close to Julian’s lap that Noel’s voice sounded faint to him. Julian didn’t say anything; he was sure Noel didn’t really expect an answer. Noel didn’t try and pull it away this time, just brushed Julian’s knuckles with his thumb and then curiously traced the grooves of the cast of the hand.

“How was the rest of the party?” Julian asked when the moment seemed to stretch out too long.

“Good,” Noel said, unfolding his legs and moving onto his knees. “Lots of people.” Noel could have gone til past dawn rubbing elbows with more of NME’s favourite personalities and being ‘rock ‘n’ roll,’ but he’d ended up here instead, a fact that he didn’t have to rub in Julian’s face for it to be hanging heavy between them.

His arms were braced on Julian’s legs and he leaned on him heavily. Julian adjusted his hold on the statuette when Noel’s weight dug it too sharply into his thigh. It rested in front of his crotch, unintentionally suggestive, and Noel looked up at him with an expression that made it clear his objectives had shifted.

Outwardly impassive, Julian watched as Noel bent forward again and licked the thrust-up finger of the award. His position made an elegant curve of his spine, but he still looked trashy – his t-shirt grubby and clinging to his skin with sweat and the crack of his skinny arse peeking out of his jeans.

This was Noel’s drunken form of subtle, Julian supposed, and it was anything but. His tongue played over the ridge of the pinkie and ring finger before swirling over the tip of the middle. Noel took it into his mouth then, gaze directed upwards to make eye contact with him.

The silent offer caused Julian a twinge of desire, but he felt fairly certain he wasn’t going to be able to get hard and he wasn’t in the mood to let Noel mock him for it. He’d feel a bad host, though, if he rejected Noel when he was putting forth this flagrant of a proposition.

Julian slid the statuette free from Noel’s mouth. He tried to be careful, but the tip of the bronze finger still hit the back of Noel’s front teeth. Angling Noel up with a hand on his shoulder, Julian kissed him by way of apology. Noel’s tongue slithered eagerly into his mouth and Julian could taste the tang of the metal, something almost like blood. He set the statuette by his side and then stroked the back of Noel’s neck as the kiss deepened. Feeling slightly woozy, it seemed to Julian as though Noel was everywhere at once, hands and knees and tongue all nudging at him. Noel was attempting to crawl his way onto Julian’s lap, fumbling and clumsy from drinks.

An insistent hand curled over Julian’s crotch, the heel of Noel’s palm nudging against Julian’s cock. When Noel realized he wasn’t getting a response, he started to frown, and Julian distracted him by pushing him roughly onto his back. The abrupt movement sent Julian’s stomach churning, and he was reminded, as if his limp dick wasn’t enough, of his inebriation.

Noel looked surprised at his sudden change in location, but delighted as well, and he immediately squirmed out of his shirt and tossed it carelessly onto the floor. Julian tried to consider his options, but his thoughts were too jumbled. Noel had a scarf tied around his hips, he noticed inanely as Noel struggled with the knot. It fluttered through the air to join his shirt and then Noel was ripping open the fastenings of his trousers.

“Do something,” Noel snapped, so Julian picked up one of Noel’s legs and slid off the pointy red boot. He inadvertently tickled Noel’s ankle when he removed his sock and Noel kicked his shoulder lightly in reply. Julian took hold of the hem of Noel’s jeans and pulled them free and then Noel planted his foot where he’d just kicked, biting his bottom lip to try and mask a smirk.

His arms strained to catch Julian’s face and pull him down for another kiss, not really much more than a messy swipe of his tongue over Julian’s lips. With the way he was bent, the gist of what he was after was apparent. Julian focused on the curve of Noel’s bare neck as he slid a hand into his pants, but still couldn’t come up with anything more than a dull ache in the pit of his stomach. He was angry, suddenly, at himself, at Noel who was flushed and panting and licking his lips and totally unaware of anything other than his own need, but mostly at the NME, which he was sure was to somehow blame for everything. He gritted his teeth, deciding that it was a perfectly logical conclusion to reach.

The gleam of metal in the corner of his eye caught his attention and Julian turned his head slightly. The award still stood upright on the bed, saluting them both with its rude gesture. Some of Noel’s saliva shone on the statuette’s finger.

A spark of inspiration struck and it seemed like a good idea in Julian’s muzzy brain, like a meaningful and symbolic gesture. Julian gathered all the available moisture in his mouth and lapped at his fingers before wiping them on the statuette. He picked it up and studied it critically.

Noel looked at him doubtfully. “Not what I meant when I said they were bumming me,” he said, surprisingly composed. He didn’t protest, though, when Julian smiled wolfishly and pressed the tip of the metal finger between Noel’s buttocks.

Pushing himself up onto his elbows, Noel watched, intrigued, as Julian guided the finger inside of him. “It’s cold,” he murmured, a muscle twitching in his cheek. Julian shifted his grip and nudged the award deeper and Noel’s head thudded back, his cheeks turning a deeper red.

The award was a bit bulky for this, and Julian found it unwieldy trying to thrust the finger in and out. He settled for a rocking movement, and was mindful of keeping his arm steady.

“This is probably what happened to the other one,” Julian said after a moment, his eyes glinting in amusement.

Noel choked out a laugh. “’s like a black hole. I’m always losing—” He wasn’t able to finish the sentence, but just growled, looking irritated as he tried to work his hips against the slight motion of the statuette inside of him.

Experimentally, Julian turned the base just enough to see the knuckle of the bent first finger twist against Noel’s perineum. A whimper stuttered its way out of Noel’s mouth and when Julian pulled it back the skin there was red.

Noel closed one hand around his erection and started stroking it at a pace that Julian knew from experience wasn’t enough to get him off. He figured Noel was holding out, expecting something better if he was patient.

Julian was fascinated by the sight of the metal fist pushing against Noel’s arse, so much so that he forgot how badly he was teasing Noel. He was suddenly pulled back to reality when Noel groaned, “It’s not enough. Please,” his fingers loosely around his cock.

He was writhing on the mattress and Julian feared, for a moment, that he might hurt himself on the inflexible metal digit. He could imagine how frustrating it was, not long or thick enough, not able to crook and twist like real fingers and rub right where Noel really needed it.

He looked utterly shameless and Julian felt his cock stirring in appreciation. He was absurdly scared he’d frighten his newfound arousal away. He waited a minute, holding his breath – “Are you trying to drive me absolutely fucking bonkers?” came Noel’s voice of reason – and finally decided with great relief that he really was getting hard. He bent to kiss Noel to share his excitement, nipping at Noel’s lips.

“Bastard,” Noel said when Julian carefully let the statuette slide free. Julian just smirked and sat back on his heels and started unbuttoning his shirt. His clothes were all already ridiculously rumpled, so he showed them little consideration.

“Should’ve been ‘Sexiest Male’ I did that with,” he snorted out, trying to get his last shirt button undone.

“It was,” Noel quipped.

“I meant instead of Best TV Show, you tit.”

“I know. I told you I didn’t get one for that. And I was being clever.” Noel stretched out, jerking his cock lazily. “I’m quite clever, you know. There’s brains with all this, not just sexiness. If only the people of NME realised that. I should’ve gotten Hero of the Year.”

“Don’t make me hurt you, you little egotist.”

“At least you’d be fucking doing _something_ to me. What’re you doing?”

With a growl of frustration, Julian yanked his shirt open, hearing the tiny rip of fabric. Fucking buttons. Pop-clasp buttons were so much easier to deal with. He didn’t really like the shirt, anyway. Noel let his leg fall off of Julian’s shoulder to allow Julian greater ease in taking off his trousers and pants.

A small struggle was followed by a scoff of triumph and then Julian was naked, shifting back in close. Noel hooked his legs around Julian’s waist and Julian couldn’t help but laugh because Noel was dragging his dangling jeans along like a bizarre dead extra limb. Julian felt the heel of the boot Noel hadn’t bothered to take off prodding into his skin.

Noel’s desperation seemed to emanate so strongly that it pushed its way into Julian’s body. His desire suddenly seemed all-consuming. He tried to brace himself with a hand on either side of Noel’s head, but couldn’t maintain his balance, dropping most of his weight onto Noel as he leaned on one forearm and took both of their cocks in his other hand.

Sounding immensely gratified, Noel moaned and arched up, pushing sweaty skin more firmly against sweaty skin. Noel’s erection felt amazingly hot against Julian’s, and his hand moved quick and sure, squeezing them together. Noel drew his knees up higher, his fingers digging into Julian’s backside. “More, Ju,” Noel whispered against the side of Julian’s face, repeating the words over and over until it all strung together in one long whine.

While Noel was unarguably a slut, it still flattered Julian how needy he got during sex. Spurred on by Noel’s entreaties, Julian frantically spit into his palm and rubbed his cock, wet with saliva and precum and then he and Noel were racing to position themselves properly, snorting out giggles that ended as stifled groans.

Noel threw his head back in an admirable imitation of a porn star to complement Julian’s first thrust, gasping in pleasure. His fringe was glued to his damp forehead and he held Julian’s upper arms in a fierce grip.

“ _Much_ better,” Noel said breathlessly when Julian had gotten the full length of his cock inside of him. Julian tried to chuckle at his wantonness, but could only exhale sharply.

He felt so tightly wound, coiled like a spring, and Noel was already tense and trembling. It was almost agonizing each time he pulled out, but he was rewarded with a series of fantastic noises when he thrust back in. Noel’s limbs kept shuddering and drawing him closer and Julian was suddenly reminded of how small Noel was. He had such an overwhelming presence normally, took up such a large part of Julian’s life that Julian always forgot about their size difference until Noel was folded beneath him like this.

A strain was visible on Noel’s face and Julian took pity on him, closing his fist around Noel’s weeping cock. Noel smashed their lips together when he came and Julian could feel his wail reverberating in his throat and down into his chest.

He clenched so tightly around Julian’s cock that Julian worried for a second that they would be stuck like this forever, but then his own release was upon him and he held Noel’s hips in a vice-like grip and mindlessly sought to push as deeply as possible, feeling his cock throb and spill inside of Noel, his face buried against the crook of Noel’s neck.

When he could finally open his eyes again, Noel was looking at him with a contented, indulgent smile and rubbing soothing, lazy circles on his back. Julian mustered the energy to prop himself up onto one elbow, raising an eyebrow.

“Smug bastard,” he murmured.

Noel’s lips curved into a Cheshire cat’s grin. “I’m NME’s fucking Sexiest Male, I know my rights.”

Julian flopped back down against the crook of Noel’s neck and let out a heavy breath. “If you don’t shut up about that, I’m going to tie you down and eventually sodomise you again.”

“What, with the Perrier award this time?”

“Just… heed me, Fielding.”

“Oh, heed you. _Heed_ you. I’m very alarmed.”

Groaning in response, Julian eased over onto his back and let out a sudden short exclamation, turning in against Noel’s side and reaching behind himself to wrap his fingers around something cold and heavy. He rolled his eyes and held the statuette over Noel’s pale stomach.

“Do you still want this?”

“Hmm, no. You can go ahead and put it on the mantelpiece.”

“You’re going to Hell, you know.”

“You’re coming with me.”

“Just… put your pants back on, Noel.”

“I told you that was how it worked.”

Julian moved to follow his own advice, sitting up and reaching over the side of the bed to retrieve a pair of boxers to sleep in. He slipped them up over his legs and shuffled around to pull them on, then lay back down, watching as Noel lazily raised his legs into the air and hunted for the empty leg hole of his pants with his bare toes. He watched as Noel slid his toes through and then planted his feet on the mattress, arching his hips up and pulling the waistband up to his hipbones before dropping back down heavily onto the mattress with his brow furrowed in thought.

“If I _do_ get these trophies out of the NME…”

“Hmm?”

Noel rolled in against Julian’s side, leaning up to leave him with a sweet, if somewhat sloppy-tongued, kiss. Julian absently wiped the saliva from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, then snaked his arm around Noel’s shoulders.

“If they end up giving me trophies after all, I’m keeping Best Dressed, but I think you can borrow Sexiest Male.”

“How very kind of you.”

“I know. See, this is why I should have been Hero of the Year.”

Julian neatly and efficiently picked up one of his pillows and placed it over Noel’s face. He held it there as Noel struggled against him, wiry arms flailing, fingers finding Julian’s wrist and blunt, grubby nails digging into his skin. Noel was shouting at him and laughing but all of it was muffled. Eventually Noel gave up the fight, flopping onto his back and letting his arms drop to his sides, then lying still.

Holding his breath in sympathy, Julian slid the pillow down from Noel’s face, resting against it on Noel’s chest as he peered down at him. His eyes were closed, his lips parted slightly. Julian couldn’t help himself, leaning in to press his lips to Noel’s, then grazing his teeth against Noel’s bottom lip. There was no reaction from the other man.

“Fielding.”

One eye cracked open. “Al _right_ , fine. You can have Best Dressed, too, though I _have_ to say—AGH!” He squirmed under Julian’s fingers as they tickled their way up his sides. Noel forced the rest of his sentence out in between protesting squeals. “I _am_ morally – opposed to it… Get off me!”

Noel’s strongest defensive tactic at that moment was to lean in and clamp his teeth down on Julian’s shoulder. With a yowl of protest, Julian shoved him backwards, almost pushing him off the bed. He was again reminded of Noel’s slight frame as the smaller man sprawled out, coming close to tumbling off the mattress. He couldn’t have pushed him _that_ hard, he thought, stretching out on his back with his brow furrowed as he rubbed a hand over the bite mark on his arm.

“Go on,” he huffed. “That’s it. Get out, you’re sleeping on the couch.”

Noel curled in to Julian’s side as though he’d heard nothing at all, wriggling around and pulling a pillow in under his head, clearly getting comfortable. He trailed one hand up over Julian’s chest and let it rest there, the weight of his arm instantly heavier. He raised his head up and bumped his nose against Julian’s jaw, giving him a mockingly unimpressed look before dropping his head back down, cheek against pillow, forehead against Julian’s shoulder. A warm breath tickled against his arm and Julian could feel Noel chuckling silently.

“ _What_ ever. Sexiest Males don’t sleep on couches.”

“Oh, I give up,” Julian grumbled. He closed his eyes to block out Noel’s self-satisfied smirk and resigned himself to sleep. 


End file.
